


From the Depths of the Void and Back

by kawakaeguri



Series: Liviana Cat Trevelyan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawakaeguri/pseuds/kawakaeguri
Summary: Prompts and one-shots related toFrom the Depths of the Void





	1. A Welcome Intruder

The slam of his door below shattered the peaceful stillness of the night. Jolting out of bed, Cullen gasped as his heart thundered within his chest, his skin cold and clammy with sweat. There had been a nightmare, demons, and- He shook his head. It was all foggy now, which was probably for the best. He would rather not recall the events of his dreams while he was awake. “Who goes there?”

No one answered. Frowning as he heard his ladder creak, Cullen silently grasped the hilt of the dagger he always kept under his bed, every muscle in his body on alert and tense from the violent awakening. Holding himself at the ready, he waited and-

Sighed. “Cat,” he breathed as he saw the slight shadow of the Inquisitor pop up through the opening in his floor. “What are you doing here?”

Still ignoring him, Liviana said nothing, and instead just headed straight for his bed and climbed in.

“Um, Cat? Are you sleepwalking?”

“No,” she finally muttered, drawing his blanket up over her head.

“Ah. You do know this is my room then? And my bed?”

“Obviously.”

“Right.” Sighing, Cullen let his grip go lax and stowed the blade safely back where it belonged. “So you’re just what, sleeping here tonight? Cat? What’s wrong?”

“Nightmare,” was all she would admit to him. And he understood all too well. The desire to not be alone, to have some sort of contact with another being, to convince yourself that the demons were not real, that the nightmare was just that, a dream, and nothing more.

“Alright,” he murmured. Grabbing a spare blanket, Cullen spread it over the ground and sat down, only to be met with her furrowed brow glaring at him from above. “What now?”

“What are you doing down there?”

“Sleeping, obviously,” he echoed her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, as if he were the one at fault here. When she had barged into his room, woken him up, and claimed his bed. “Get up here.”

“Sleep with-” It felt different, somehow. The first time they had both been drunk, and unaware of the entirety of their actions. The second had been for survival. She needed his body heat to stay alive, and he had willingly given it. But this was… “You want me to sleep next to you?”

“Why? Does it bother you?” She frowned down at him. “Wait- Are you blushing?”

Damn her perceptive eyes and the bright light of the moons. “No,” he muttered as he climbed up next to her, carefully arranging his body so that he wasn’t touching her bare skin, and Maker’s breath, the threadbare shift she wore hardly covered anything. She couldn’t have known how she affected him so, and he’d be damned before he let her know, lest she think of him as one of those sort of men. “Did you walk across all of Skyhold dressed like that?”

“Had a cloak. Left it on your desk. Why are you blushing?” Dark eyes the color of an evening thunderstorm peered down at him, her elbows propped up upon the mattress so she could see him better. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No. Not at all,” he assured her. “It’s just that, well, are you sure I can’t offer you a pair of breeches? Or one of my shirts? Or something?”

“Pants? Why… Oooh,” a grin slowly spread across her face and Cullen groaned. “When was the last time you were with a woman, Ser Stick?”

“That is hardly any of your business,” he grumbled. “I don’t ask you such things.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since I was a merc, before I arrived at Kirkwall,” Liviana shrugged. “So- eight years? Give or take? Who was after that not-a-widow in Kirkwall, hmm?”

“Mmph.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

Scowling at her, Cullen sighed. “She was the last. I haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Why?”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Haven’t wanted to,” she replied, far too cheerily. “I’ve got perfectly good fingers of my own, why would I need a partner?”

The sound Cullen made sounded like a cat being drowned. “Cat.”

Giggling, Liviana just snuggled in against his side. “Don’t worry, Cullen. I don’t plan on taking advantage of you, and I know you wouldn’t attack me to sate your manly urges. And if certain parts of you poke me in the morning, I don’t care. In fact, I’d probably hardly notice at all.”

“It’s not that small- Oh, never mind. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” she laughed at his petulant tone. “Goodnight, Cullen.”

“Goodni- Wait. I don’t recall saying you could stay here.”

“You didn’t,” she draped his arm around her shoulders and laid her hand upon his chest. “Night.”

“...Goodnight, Cat.”


	2. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little ficlet of Cullen's POV the night Haven fell.

He loved her. And he sent her to her death.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it was the only way. That she would have gone no matter what he said. At least she had his coin on him, a small piece of him, in case she-

No. She would not die. _Could_ not. The fates would not be so cruel to take her away now, would they? Now that he knew he loved her, not when the world needed her so. Maker, how could he have let her go? _Like I could have stopped her._

Summoning up every bit of his willpower to force his attention to concentrate on the task at hand, Cullen swept through the ranks of the soldiers that were left as they helped corral all the villagers. Children were loaded into one wagon, furs tucked around their tiny bodies to help preserve the slight warmth they held; everyone else walked. Crates filled with whatever could be grabbed, a haphazard medley of bandages and armor and grain and tents and pots, were packed tightly on the other eight wagons that had been saved, bags and satchels lashed to the few remaining druffalo and horses that weren’t tied to a cart. It wasn’t enough. With what they had, they could last maybe a week, or ten days if they could stretch and ration everything properly. Water wasn’t an issue. There were enough mages and enough snow to keep the refugees hydrated. But food? Hunting would be scarce high up in the mountains, providing that the bloody dragon hadn’t scared all the wildlife off.

“That’s the last of them, Commander!” Rylen jogged up to him.

Nodding, Cullen glanced back down the narrow path that Chancellor Roderick had shown them, the darkness illuminated by the single torch he held, the fire flickering wildly in the growing wind. The path that had been their salvation. Except for her. “Take the back, make sure no one falls behind. Sister Leliana!” Why did his voice suddenly feel too thick, too swollen in his throat? The breath in his lungs expanding, gagging him, choking- “Send the signal.” It felt like a bell, clanging through his head, tolling the sound of their Herald’s death.

Slender gloved fingers nocked an arrow into her bow, and Cullen held the torch to the shaft, lighting Liviana’s pyre. Drawing the arrow back, Leliana aimed it up at the night sky-

And let it fly.

He could just make out her slight figure down below still in Haven, smaller than an ant, and the gruesome figure that towered over her, the Blighted dragon at its back. If he squinted enough, he could almost imagine her face, those full lips curved in a victorious smirk as she fired off the trebuchet. And the look of determination she would wear as she watched the mountain bear down on her in a screaming rush of snow and rock, clouds of white billowing up from the avalanche, blanketing the once bustling village in an eerie silence. In the distance, he watched as the dragon escaped with a shrill cry just ahead of the icy wave, by Andraste’s mercy heading in the opposite direction of what was left of the Inquisition.

So the dragon lived. And Liviana was there, buried under a mountain, dead. It wasn't right, nor fair, but when had things ever been so? Maker, he hoped it had at least been quick. Then again, who knew? Maybe his coin truly was lucky. Maybe she would find a way back to them, back to him. Perhaps he was just torturing himself thinking of it, but if there was a chance, albeit a slim one, that she had survived, he was going to take it. 

“Commander,” he heard Leliana’s voice behind him. “We need to go. There’s a storm incoming.”

“Right,” Cullen jerked himself away from the edge of the path, out of his stricken horror and back to the present. “We need to find somewhere to shelter in for the rest of the night. We need to get as far away from Haven as we can, just in case that blasted dragon decides to come back. Keep a tight perimeter around the people, make sure no one gets left behind. Move out!”

It was a miserable climb, the hardships compounded by the blizzard that whipped in out of nowhere. The mages, already fatigued from battle, expended the last of their quickly dwindling mana trying to keep everyone warm enough, especially the children. They needed to find shelter, but where? The mountain was too steep here to make camp, and they were still too close to Haven, and-

“Stragglers approaching!”

“But we didn’t leave anyone behind!”

“Is that- it’s Master Tethras! I’d recognize that dwarf anywhere.”

“Is the Herald with them?”

“I can’t tell!”

Murmurs and whispers spread through the ranks, the faint sounds almost lost in the howl of the wind. Whirling around where he stood at the head of column, Cullen waited with bated breath, his heart hammering against his breastplate, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of the weary people who trekked up behind them. Two humans, and a dwarf. Was there a third? No…

One look at Varric’s eyes, and Cullen knew. Shame, regret, anger tore at all of them, weighing down Cassandra’s steps, darkening Blackwall’s brow, twisting Varric’s lips into a snarl. They had left her, but Cullen knew it was not by choice. None of them would have willingly abandoned her.

Barely able to stand the sight of them, Cullen forced himself back around and stared at the treeline, calling for only short breaks in a clipped tone for the next couple hours. The blizzard was finally dying down. And there, down in a small valley, was a space wide and flat enough to hold them. They would make camp here.

“Rylen,” Cullen beckoned the other man over. “Make sure everything gets set up. I’m going to search for her.”

“Rutherford,” Rylen grabbed his arm as he made to leave. “You don’t know-”

“You are the one who told me she would make it back,” Cullen shot back scathingly. “Do you believe otherwise now?”

“Mate, you saw that avalanche,” Rylen replied quietly, his eyes dark and sorrowful. “You saw-”

“I did,” Cullen jerked his arm away, scowling at his friend. “And she’s alive. She has to be. And I’m going to find her.”

“I am coming as well,” Cassandra interrupted them. “I should have gone back for her, but she told me- Told us-”

“To fuck off,” Blackwall wryly shook his head. “Threw a few daggers our way too, and threatened to kill us if we stayed. We’ll help, too.” Several soldiers tagged along behind the Warden, all of them exhausted but still hopeful.

Cullen almost smiled. It was all too easy to imagine the scene, how she would have yelled and snarled at her friends in an attempt to give them a chance to live. “We’ll head back the way we came, do a wide sweep of the mountain. There should be enough debris left behind to give her markers but I don’t know how much it snowed toward the base of the mountain. So we need to move fast. Let’s go.”

It was cold. He even felt it, the fresh snow lingering in the air, the chill seeping through leather into his feet and hands as they climbed. _She’s probably cursing the weather to the Void and back. Maker, does she even have her cloak? No, she went out without it. Dammit, I’ve got to find her. These conditions are dangerous even for a native Ferelden, but for her? If the dragon and the avalanche didn’t kill her, hypothermia might. No- this is Liviana. She cannot have survived all that she has to die by freezing to death. She will have found a way, somehow-_

“Ice, pain blinding, numb- Kaffas, Fereldens are all bloody insane-” A lanky boy appeared next to Cullen, blinking wildly. 

“What the-” Cullen leapt back, his sword drawn. “Who the bloody hell are you?”

“I’m Cole,” the boy thing turned his pale gaze around. “You forgot. But she hasn’t.”

“She- Do you mean Liviana?” Cassandra demanded. “Do you know where she is?”

“There.”

 _There_. A tiny flicker of light, an emerald flare of magic flashed at the top of the slope. _There. Catalina_. Wobbling for one moment suspended in time, Cullen watched as her tiny figure collapsed in the snow.

“Cat!” Heedless of the thick snow that clung to his boots, the soft powder that made it almost impossible to run, Cullen managed to sprint the rest of the way to where she lay, crumpled into a tiny ball, dried blood staining her leathers along with several bruises that peeked out of the torn edges. Her breath was faint, and labored. Skidding to his knees, Cullen fell at her side. “Cat.”

As gently as if she were a newborn babe, he tucked his arms underneath her broken body, all too aware of the sound of her wheezes, every breath paining her. He needed to get her to the healers, to Maxwell, now.

“D’you kee’ your pro...mi…” he heard her slur inro his chest.

“I did,” Cullen whispered into her frozen hair. “I got everyone out. Max is waiting on you, and you’re going to be fine.”

“Goo’... Looks like th’ coin… s’lucky after all…” she mumbled.

“I suppose it was,” Cullen smiled through the tears clouding his eyes. “Stop talking now, and save your strength.”

“...Rude…”

Cullen’s laugh was almost hysterical. She had found her way back to him.


End file.
